That Touch of Puritan
by Arthur Delapore
Summary: What happens when Elizabeth Swann falls in love with a mysterious Puritan? TWENTIETH CHAPTER IS UP What eldritch horrors await Jack and Will in legendhaunted Innsmouth?
1. The Newcomer to Port Royal

That Touch of Puritan

Episode One: The Newcomer to Port Royal

"Elizabeth, there is a visitor downstairs," Governor Swann called. "Do hurry so you can meet him."

"I'm coming!" Elizabeth called. She slipped a white dress on, ran a comb through her hair, and looked at herself in the mirror.

So many things had happened during the last week--Jack Sparrow's miraculous escape from the gallows and Will's marriage proposal. She had told him that she would have to think about marrying him--she could not lie to him and accept his proposal before she was absolutely certain that he was the right one. For Elizabeth still harbored some doubts, and she knew it would be wrong to choose Will unless she knew for a fact that their relationship would be permanent.

She left her room and hurried downstairs, lifting the edge of her dress slightly to avoid tripping.

"Oh, there you are!" the governor chuckled, adjusting his wig slightly, and bowing at the stranger in front of him. "And here is my daughter Elizabeth."

Elizabeth saw a man wearing a black, broad-brimmed hat, buckled shoes and black stockings. In fact, he was wearing black right down to the ebony gloves that he had taken off and was holding. He smiled at her; it was a grave, polite smile.

"Miss Swann?" he said, taking her hand and kissing it modestly. "I am Mr. Wither Skelton."

"Are you a Puritan gentleman?" Elizabeth asked, raising an eyebrow with a curious smile.

"You certainly guess correctly, my dear," he said with a much warmer smile. "And I hope I'm not imposing on you, since I understand that most of the inhabitants of Port Royal are Scotch Presbyterians."

"Not at all, not at all," the governor chuckled. "We're delighted to have you here, aren't we, Elizabeth?"

"Yes...we are," she said softly. "Excuse me, father, I have to go for a moment. I will come back."

"Take your time, my dear," Governor Swann said, waving his hand and beginning to talk enthusiastically to Wither Skelton about politics.

Elizabeth hurried upstairs, but she did not go immediately to her room. Instead, she watched her father and the Puritan talking together. A turmoil of thoughts raced through her head. "All he did was smile at me," she murmured angrily to herself. "I barely know the man!" And yet, she couldn't forget that sweetly grave smile and his courteous, thoughtful demeanor. Try as she might, Elizabeth could not deny it: she was in love with the Puritan.


	2. A Stranger For Dinner

Episode Two: A Stranger For Dinner

"Elizabeth, you sit across from Mr. Skelton, please," the governor said that night at dinner.

Elizabeth felt herself instantly grow uneasy. Somehow, she was afraid that if she sat too close to Wither, that she would reveal her emotions too easily. But she could not, at the same time, argue without appearing rude to both her father and to the Puritan. So she did as he requested, though she looked discreetly at her plate.

"Now, Mr. Skelton," Governor Swann said as soon as dinner had begun. "I hear that the people in your New England colonies, as you people call them, are religious fanatics. Is that true?"

"Not at all, sir," Wither Skelton said gently. "It is true that we have had rigid rulers in our midst—why, the people in Massachusetts Bay Colony had to expel Governor Withrop because of his mistreatment of certain citizens—but none of us are fanatics. We use logic and common sense in every rule we institute, and while some of us can be intolerant, none of our better factions are at all fanatical."

The governor's eyes popped. "Well, then what's all this talk—"

"Granted, we are not popular with many people," Wither said coldly. "But that does not make what they say about us any truer."

"Which part of New England do you come from, Mr. Skelton?" Elizabeth ventured to ask.

The flash of cold, controlled bitterness in his eyes now warmed a bit at the mention of his beloved colony. "I come from Ipswich," he said thoughtfully. "It's beautiful there…unlike any of the other colonies in any other part of the New World. The forests are more thickly wooded than any forests in New England, and as long as a man is prepared to work hard for his own living, it is as close to paradise as one can get in this life."

"Now, now, Mr. Skelton," the governor chuckled. "You're not trying to talk us into coming to Ipswich with you, are you?"

Wither smiled slightly. "I doubt, being so used to the warm climate down here, that you would want to come to our harsher, northern lands."

"Are you going back there?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yes, in a few days," Wither replied.

Elizabeth felt a surprised pang of sadness at this revelation, and at the same time happened to look up at Wither Skelton. His eyes met hers and for a moment she was unable to wrench her gaze away from their cold, wistfulness. And then he smiled gently and looked away and began talking to the governor about Port Royal. But Elizabeth could not pay attention, for she was wondering how much of her feelings she had accidentally revealed to him in that momentary look they had exchanged.


	3. An Invitation

Episode Three: An Invitation

"Elizabeth, why don't you show Mr. Skelton to his room," Governor Swann suggested. "We'll give him the guest room next to mine."

Elizabeth nodded and led the black-clad stranger upstairs to the spacious guest room. "Here it is," she said, stopping by the door. "I hope you like it."

"Thank you, my dear," he said politely. He hesitated for a moment. "I would actually like it if you could do something for me, if it wouldn't bother you in anyway."

"What is it?" Elizabeth asked, surprised.

"How would you like to show me around Port Royal sometime tomorrow?" Wither asked. "I would very much like to see the place, but I haven't a guide or anything, and I doubt that any of the people around here would be willing to show a New England Puritan any of the local colour," he said the last statement with a faintly sardonic tone.

"Of course I'd like to show you around," Elizabeth said after a pause. "Though I don't know what sorts of places you'd prefer to see."

"Oh, anything will do," Wither said with an amused smile. "You'll find that I'm not so very hard to please after all, my dear."


	4. A Night of Reflections

Episode Four: A Night of Reflections

Note: Nuriel the Pirate and Dryandra, thank you for your suggestions! I shall certainly keep them in mind…and I do hope you all enjoy my next installment (and yeah, I'll try to keep Elizabeth more in character with the movie).

As Elizabeth lay in bed, she could smell the sea wind rush in from the shutters of her room. Her mind was full of memories; memories of the last month. Her meeting with Jack Sparrow, her gradual realization that Will felt something for her, and her own realization that she could never marry Norrington, despite her father's wishes. All this ran through her head, and she couldn't help but think how she could love a stranger whom she barely knew.

And yet she knew that she still had the choice; for she had told Will herself that she still needed to think about whether she was ready to have a permanent relationship with him. Now that she thought of it…she didn't know why she had felt that she had to think about it. There had just been a feeling she had, like an overhanging cloud on a clear, bright day—that there was still room for doubt about her feelings for Will. She _knew _that she could never love Norrington…she loved Will, or _thought _she loved him…

Elizabeth sighed in frustration and turned away from the window and the bright, cold moonlight that streamed into her room. And she asked herself…why should she love Wither Skelton in the first place? He was a _Puritan_—she had heard people speak of the New English Puritans. They had been called fanatics, they had been called revolutionaries…Elizabeth shook her head. What was true and what was false? She felt as if her whole world and all her feelings were being called into question.

She had never felt this way before. Elizabeth Swann had always known and done what she had felt was right. Like when she had stood up for Will when he was a young boy and hidden the pirate medallion for fear that he would be unjustly accused of being a pirate. And when she had ignored Mr. Gibbs and the rest of Jack Sparrow's crew and gone out to rescue both Sparrow and Will from the mutinous Captain Barbossa.

But now, for the first time in her life, Elizabeth felt that she could not even trust her own feelings. Wither Skelton…why had he done this to her mind? He probably didn't even know that she felt this way about him, Elizabeth realized. And being a Puritan, he would probably be both scandalized and amused if he _did _discover how she felt.

Elizabeth finally rose out of bed and closed the shutters of her window. And past the cold moonlight, she saw on the distant horizon, the outline of a ship. It was a ship with black sails and a carven headmast. Even from that great distance, Elizabeth recognized the ship, and its name came unbidden to her lips:

"The _Black Pearl_…"


	5. Return of the Pearl

Episode Five: Return of the _Pearl_

Note: Thank you all for keeping an eye on this story! The faster the reviews come, the faster I write the next chapter! In response to sweet-opium-dreamer's suggestion that perhaps Wither Skelton is a bit 'forward' for a Puritan…you've got a point, but actually the Puritans weren't quite so prudish as a lot of historians like to make out, so his behaviour is really quite normal for a Puritan gentleman. Believe me, I am something of a scholar of colonial New England, so hopefully I know what I'm talking about! Anyway, on with the next installment…

For a moment, Elizabeth watched the silhouette of the ship in the distance. The next moment, she pulled on a dark, velvet-red coat on and hurried out of her room. As she did so, she ran straight into a black, shadowy figure, also moving down the hallway. As Elizabeth's eyes adjusted to the darkness of the hallway, she recognized that the cloaked figure was Wither Skelton.

"Why, Miss Swann!" Wither exclaimed in courteous surprise. "I am surprised to see you up at this hour!"

"Well, I'm surprised to see you here," Elizabeth returned. "What are you doing?"

Wither smiled thoughtfully, as if he was calculating how best to answer her question. "I saw a ship out on the horizon," he said finally. "And I didn't recognize her name, though I could make it out quite clearly with my spyglass."

Elizabeth couldn't help but catch her breath. "What was the ship's name?" she asked.

"_The Black Pearl_," Wither said, his glance growing a little hard as he looked at her. "Do you know of it?"

"Of course not," Elizabeth said, trying to sound calm. "Why should I?"

"I don't believe you should," Wither said, his smile a little warmer, this time. "Perhaps I misinterpreted your expression. Is it possible that you could show me a better view of the sea?"

"From the house?" Elizabeth asked. "The best view is probably the balcony on the eastern wing."

"Could you take me there, then?" Wither asked.

"Of course," Elizabeth replied, wondering about his sudden interest in the _Black Pearl._ She led him towards the eastern wing onto a marble balcony.

The sea wind swept past her disheveled hair, carrying with it the scents of the harbour. Wither Skelton kept an intent eye on the distant ship on the horizon.

"You seem to have quite an interest in this ship," Elizabeth remarked wryly.

Wither glanced at her as if he had just noticed that she was still there. "I have a great interest in any sort of new place," he replied with a wintry smile. "And it's not often that I am able to travel to the Caribbean. As it is, I shall be travelling back to Massachusetts in a mere matter of days."

"Why?" the question came from Elizabeth before she knew what she was saying.

Wither Skelton turned and looked at her a little more closely, obviously bewildered by her question. "Why?" he repeated. "Well, because I haven't the money to stay on here much longer…and because my ship leaves this harbour in several days, my dear. And I don't want to impose on your father any longer than I already have," he added with an ironic smile.

"You're not any trouble at all," Elizabeth protested, trying to sound more polite than desperate. "My father loves your company. He wouldn't let you stay in his own house if he didn't."

"I am flattered," Wither remarked, his tone now a little mocking, "That you are so concerned about my well-being. But may I inquire as to why you are so interested in my staying here or not?"

Elizabeth kept her eye fixed on the ship in the distance. "I'm not interested one way or the other," she said calmly. "I'm just letting you know that you don't have to leave if you don't want to." She turned to leave, but as she did so, Wither touched her hand and as she turned back to look at him, there was a sparkle of appreciativeness in his normally cold, ironic glance. "Thank you anyhow, Miss Swann," he said gently. "I will certainly consider staying here a while longer, if you truly wish me to stay."

Elizabeth hesitated, and then said, "Do you still want me to show you around Port Royal tomorrow?"

"As I said, as long as it is no trouble to you," he replied. "And I would also like to meet the crew of the _Black Pearl_, if you don't mind. Do you think they will be landing here soon?"

"I don't know, but I will certainly try and see if we can meet them," Elizabeth replied. "Goodnight, Mr. Skelton."

"Goodnight, Miss Swann," he replied graciously, turning back to his strange, watchful vigil of the distant ship on the horizon.


	6. A Mysterious Customer

Episode Six: A Mysterious Customer

Will Turner stood by the ship with Jack Sparrow, eyeing the _Black Pearl_ doubtfully.

"I'm glad you decided to come along with my crew this time, Mr. Turner," Jack grinned.

Will frowned. "I'm just coming along because we're friends. Otherwise I wouldn't." He glanced around. "Where is this fellow that we're supposed to be meeting?"

"I have no idea," Jack replied. "All I know is that I got a note from him saying that he had to meet me for some important matter."

"And you agreed?" Will stared.

"Why not?" Jack drawled. "After all, he's probably going to pay me…for whatever he wants me to do."

"So what sort of fellow is this?" Will asked.

"Oh, probably some savage ruffian like the types we saw on our last voyage," Jack guessed. "Tall, burly fellow with lots of tattoos on his arms, an nose-ring, maybe even a scimitar."

Jack heard someone behind him clear his throat and he turned around quickly to see a young gentleman wearing the customary black-and-white garb of the Puritans.

"What is it?" Jack asked.

"I believe you received a letter from me a week ago," the Puritan replied.

"Oh, so _you're _the one who wanted to see me?" Jack—for the first time since Will had met him—looked shocked.

"Of course," the Puritan replied. "Why are you so surprised?"

"Well, I'm just not used to having any dealings with your kind," Jack replied dubiously. "What is it you want?"

"I need you to help me break into the Port Royal prisonhouse," the Puritan replied shortly.

If Jack Sparrow and Will Turner had looked shocked before, they looked like they were going to pass out after the Puritan said this statement.

"The Port Royal _prisonhouse?_" Jack Sparrow goggled.

"Don't you know how well-guarded that place is?" Will put in.

"Certainly I do," the Puritan smiled gently. "I take it that you two don't wish to do this for me?"

"Well, if you want me to do it for you as a favour, forget it," Jack Sparrow retorted.

The Puritan's expression became cold. "I have enough money to pay for your efforts," he said sternly.

"How much?" Jack Sparrow said, unbelieving.

The Puritan leaned forward and said something in a low voice to Captain Sparrow. But Will could see the hardened pirate's resolve fade and he could guess that the sum must have been quite substantial.

"All right," Jack Sparrow said grudgingly. "We'll take care of it for you tonight."

"I'll go with you," the Puritan replied. "We'll meet here tonight around midnight. Then I'll tell you what we must do once we enter the prisonhouse."

Will shrugged. "Whatever," he said doubtfully.

"Thank you," the Puritan smiled. "I look forward to meeting you both tonight." Without another word, he left them staring after him in astonishment, and disappeared in the crowd.

"Well, that was weird," Will remarked. "A Puritan, of all people!"

"And he wants us to break into the prisonhouse!" Jack Sparrow scratched his head. "What could that be all about?"

"I guess we'll find out tonight," Will said dubiously.


	7. A Clandestine Expedition

Episode Seven: A Clandestine Expedition

Note: I'm glad you're enjoying this story, Nuriel. Keep reading, for more is to come!

Jack Sparrow and Will stood at the Port Royal dock, peering out into the misty night for any sign of their Puritan guest.

"Maybe he stood us up," Will suggested. "Or maybe he's trying to trick us so that Commodore Norrington can arrest us!"

"He's a Puritan, it's a possibility," Jack Sparrow said grimly.

"There's something about that fellow I don't trust," Will continued. "After all, he didn't even explain why he wanted us to break into the prisonhouse!"

"And why does he want to come, too?" Jack Sparrow mused. "After all, he might cramp my style. I don't usually like it when laymen tag along."

"I assure you, I am hardly a layman when it comes to these sorts of things," a voice behind Sparrow said coldly. "Now, are you ready?"

"Oh, sure, sure," Jack Sparrow goggled at the Puritan who was standing behind him. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," the Puritan replied. "We do not have time to talk, however. Are you ready to go to the prisonhouse, or not?"

Will shrugged. "If you're ready, we're ready."

Jack Sparrow, in the meantime, had been eyeing the Puritan dubiously. "Now, matey," he said, grinning and desperately attempting an air of amiability. "Can you tell us why we're going to this prisonhouse."

"Of course, I can tell you," the Puritan said, donning his own rather frosty version of conviviality. "And I _will _tell you. As soon as we reach the prisonhouse." He turned away from the dock towards the town of Port Royal and began a resolute march in the general direction of Commodore Norrington's barracks.

Will and Jack Sparrow glanced at each other doubtfully.

"Well, are we going to go with him or not?" Will finally said.

"Ordinarily…no," Sparrow said uncertainly. "But given the circumstances…and more specifically, the amount of money he promised me…I think we'll take our chances with the Puritan bloke."

Note: Sorry for cutting this chapter off so quickly, but I have a lot of other stories to update, so I can't write for long. But if you want more in a hurry, then the quickest way to get me to update is by leaving me a review. So be a dear, and write one now.


	8. BreakIn

Episode Eight: Break-In

Despite the heat of the night, Elizabeth shuddered as she crouched in the shadows of the alley and watched the three figures speaking next to the shipdock. As she stood there, she wondered in bewilderment why Wither Skelton had left her father's house in the dead of night to meet these two strangers. As they stepped into the moonlight, walking at a silent, stealthy pace towards Commodore Norrington's barracks, she recognized with shock that the two men that Skelton had been speaking to were Jack Sparrow—and Will! This new revelation only hardened her resolve to follow the Puritan and find out what he, Sparrow, and Will were doing…

"So what are we going to do?" Will whispered irritably in the Puritan's ear. They were standing in the shadows by the prisonhouse.

"We must enter this place," the Puritan replied calmly.

"How?" Jack Sparrow demanded. "As you can see, this place is heavily guarded. Unless, of course, you have a visitor's pass," he added sarcastically.

"In a way, I do," the Puritan said, sparing the pirate the coldest of smiles. "Let us move on to the west side of this building, shall we?"

Without waiting for an answer, the Puritan stealthily crept in the shadows surrounding the walls of the prisonhouse, moving around the building to the western side. Jack Sparrow and Will glanced at each other dubiously for the umpteenth time before trudging after him.

The Puritan seemed to be counting the number of steps he was taking under his breath, and stopped under a certain barred window.

"What are you trying to do—unscrew a loose bar?" Sparrow asked.

"Yes," the Puritan replied, working at one of the iron bars of the window with little success.

"Here—step aside and let me try," Sparrow said after a moment, seizing the bar and easily unscrewing it from the window. "There you go," he said, tossing the bar on the ground. The Puritan actually smiled a little warmly. "Thank you," he said softly. "Now could you reach inside and try to lift a bunch of keys that are hanging on a peg on the right side of this window, I believe?"

Sparrow shrugged. "Sure," he said. As he reached inside, he said over his shoulder, "How do you know so much about this place?"

The Puritan smiled, a dark and secret smile, but did not reply. Will glanced at him suspiciously, but Jack Sparrow's hand emerged from the window clutching a bunch of keys. Unquestioningly, Sparrow gave them to the Puritan.

"Now what are we going to do?" Will demanded. "Go in by the front door?"

"Precisely," the Puritan replied icily.

"We'll certainly be caught," Jack Sparrow said despairingly.

"Some things are more important than whether we are captured or not," the Puritan said softly. "Now come—for we are losing precious time and daylight will not be long in coming." Sparrow and Will made no move, however, and looked back at him with a mixture of suspicion and unwillingness.

"Please," the Puritan pleaded softly. "I know this seems like a fool's errand, but you must help me. I can't do this by myself."

Sparrow was about to answer, when a shout was heard from the nearby barracks, and he looked up to see fingers pointing at him.

"I think the bloody guards have spotted us," the pirate swore. "Now we're in a fix!"

The Puritan seized his wrist in a vice-like grip and dragged him along the side of the wall; Will followed in dazed bewilderment.

"Perhaps if you had chosen a darker garb like mine, mayhap you would not have been seen in the first place," the Puritan whispered wryly. "Now follow me, for I will take you to the last place they will expect you to hide."

Sparrow and Will stared open-mouthed as the Puritan led them to the front door of the jailhouse, unlocked its iron doors, and thrust them inside before following them in as well.

"Now see here, Mr. Whatever-Your-Name-Is," Sparrow said irritably. "You've already had me spotted by the commodore's little pals. And now we're in the prisonhouse! What are you up to, anyway?" Before he could continue in his harangue, he felt the tip of cold metal pressed against his back and a voice say, "Don't move or you're dead, pirate!"

Will stared, his world spinning in bewilderment. The Puritan—had he betrayed them? Had this just been part of some traitorous set-up so that he could have them arrested? He had known it was a foolish idea to trust a Puritan…

His thoughts were distracted by the sound of scraping metal.

"Do not touch the pirate or you shall have to answer to me for it," the Puritan said, his voice dangerously soft.

"What do you expect to do, _Puritan_?" the guard who was threatening Sparrow sneered. "Are you going to duel me to the death to save this scum?"

Faster than a hissing adder, the Puritan's blade swept in a glittering, silver arc, striking the guard's hand with the flat of the blade so that he dropped his sword with an echoing clatter. The guard's hand was not wounded, but he stared in snarling surprise for a moment before seizing his sword up again and rushing at the Puritan.

Immediately, the Puritan's sword lashed out again, and it was only with a great effort that the guard managed to ward the lightning swift strikes away. The Puritan's swordplay was of such a swift and skillful nature that the guard was unable to change his stance from defensive to offensive. Again and again he tried to strike at the Puritan, aiming a stab here or a slash there; but again and again, with cold and easy regularity, the cold metal of the Puritan's longsword clashed against the guard's thin rapier, making it seem more a toy than a soldier's weapon. Finally, as if the fight had grown dull to him, the Puritan struck the guard on the side of the head with the flat of his longsword, sending him in an unconscious heap on the flagstones of the prisonhouse.

The Puritan sheathed his sword silently and glanced up at Will and Sparrow. The pirate was still staring in shock at the unconscious guard.

"You know—I'm starting to like this Puritan guy," he muttered finally.


	9. The Countess

Episode Nine: The Countess

Note: Firstly, hats off to Johnnysdoll84 for being a fellow lover of New England and, of course, the Puritans! I'm so glad you're enjoying this tale and I hope you like the latest episode as well. And Nuriel, thank you also for keeping up with this thing so faithfully. And now, on with the tale!

Elizabeth crouched at the foot of the jailhouse's stone stairs, her mind in a turmoil. What _was _the Wither Skelton doing with Jack and Will? And what were they doing in the prisonhouse? She had heard the clashing sounds of swordplay, but afterwards she had caught the muffled voice of Jack Sparrow, so perhaps no one had been hurt. Elizabeth tried to push the grated door of the jailhouse open to slip through, but found that it was locked. She finally resumed her tired but constant vigil behind the green shrubbery surrounding the jailhouse, determined to find out what the three men were seeking.

Jack Sparrow broke away from his stunned train of thought and glanced at the Puritan Wither Skelton's grimly set features.

"Now what are we going to do?" he whispered.

The Puritan moved forward carefully down the cobbled corridor of the jail, roaming from cell to cell. The prisoners gaped at him in stupefied silence, until he finally stopped at a certain cell. In it, an aged man lay sound asleep; Will noticed that he had a long white beard and his face was slightly scarred. At the sound of Skelton's key jangling in the lock of his cell, however, the old man started up in surprise—at first looking about fearfully, but at sight of the Puritan he clutched the iron grating of his cell in a joyous rapture.

"Reverend Skelton!" he gasped. "You've come!"  
Wither Skelton smiled slightly. "Of course I have."

"They're going to hang me tomorrow," the old man murmured.

"Why?" Will put in.

"Because he's a Puritan like myself," Wither replied. "And he was considered an upstart in London."

"The king himself declared me a public nuisance," the old man chuckled. "I was heading off to Ipswich m'self, but before I could, I was arrested. I was certain I would be hung tomorrow, and thus had already committed my soul to the Lord…but I hardly expected the young Reverend himself to come rescuing me!"

Under the cold moonlight, Elizabeth could see the Commodore's troop of redcoats marching towards the jailhouse. She thought of the three men in the jailhouse, and without pausing to reflect on her decision, she picked a smooth pebble up from the dewy earth, and hurled it through the iron grating of the prisonhouse gate.

Jack Sparrow started as if he had been burnt and looked down to see a pebble on the floor. He then looked up—and saw a line of redcoats marching towards the prison.

"Oh, excellent," he murmured.

The Puritan looked up, and his face became grave. "You still have time to escape through the backway," he told the old man. "Go and may God be with you."

"And what will _we _do?" Sparrow demanded.

"We must stand against them," the Puritan said, his fingers resting on the iron hilt of his sword and his eyes gazing unwaveringly at the redcoats who had almost reached the prison gates. "There is no way we can escape. They will have the place surrounded very shortly and we must use the time we have left in distracting the guards so that they do not pursue the man we have gone to so much trouble in rescuing. However, if you two wish, you may leave. There may still be a chance for an escape."

"What will you do?" Will asked.

"I will stay here," the Puritan replied, his voice gentle but full of a grim determination.

Sparrow glanced at Will uneasily. "Well, of course we'll leave," he muttered. "But…we'll stay a bit longer just to make sure the coast is clear."

At that moment, the redcoats outside began banging on the iron gates and one of them pulled out a bunch of keys, unlocked the gates, and a troop of soldiers, Commodore Norrington at the lead, raced inside.

"Drop your weapons," the Commodore called out, his eyes lighting first on Sparrow, then Will, and finally on the Puritan. "Mr. Sparrow and Will—the two usual upstarts. But you…" He drew nearer to the Puritan, who was watching him warily, his hand still resting on the hilt of his sword. Had it not been for the Commodore's musket, Will knew the Puritan swordsman would have drawn his own blade in an instant.

"I can see from your somber garb that you are one of those Puritans," the Commodore said with something of a dry smile. "And what would a Puritan be doing breaking into a jailhouse in Port Royal?"

"Maybe it has to do with Mr. Orne who we were to hang tomorrow morn," one of the Commodore's guards suggested.

"Ah, that would explain it, then," the Commodore smiled. He glanced at his guards. "Arrest them, gentlemen," he ordered before pushing past his guards and exiting the jailhouse.

At that moment, a figure wearing a dark velvet coat came behind one of the guards and whispered something to him. The guard nodded after a moment and the rest of the redcoats seized Sparrow and Will, thrusting them into separate cells. The Puritan, however, after being chained securely and disarmed, was led out of the jailhouse.

"Where am I being taken?" the Puritan asked.

"You'll see soon enough," the guard wheezed. "Well, if you must know, Commodore Norrington's fiancée, Countess Zaleska wishes to see you, so you are being taken to her private chambers."

They forced him up the carefully polished steps leading to a marble porch. Once they entered the well-furnished mansion of the Countess. A figure in a velvet coat was waiting in the parlour, and on sight of the guards and their prisoner, the figure drew nearer.

"You may leave now," I an accented female voice informed the guards. "Thank you for your trouble."

"You're welcome, ma'am," the head guard tipped his hat at the figure who remained hooded, and he and the rest of his troops left the mansion, leaving the Countess alone with her prisoner.

She drew her hood back, her full, red lips curving in a sultry smile of mingled contempt and amusement. She glanced at the Puritan, her sapphire-like eyes narrowed in a piercing scrutiny. Then her gaze eased in its intensity and her smile became fuller. "Come with me," she said, taking his hand and leading him towards her private chamber.

"What is it you want?" the Puritan asked softly but warily.

"I want to speak to you, of course," the Countess replied, her laugh light and silvery.

"Of what?" the Puritan countered with a wry smile.

"Now that would be telling, wouldn't it?" the Countess laughed again. She led him into a spacious bedchamber, adorned with sumptuous velvet hangings and crimson curtains. A scent of a heady, intoxicating perfume filled the air. The Countess locked the door and slipped her velvet coat off, tossing it on her bed.

"You're probably wondering why you're here," the Countess said with a cat-like smile, as she moved lithely towards the prisoner.

"I am merely wondering what you hope to gain from all this," the Puritan said with a coldly mocking smile.

The Countess's eyes seemed to spit fire at him. "You do not understand now, but you shall," she said, her hand touching his shoulder lightly. "You do not know who I am, but I know who you are."

"How?" the Puritan asked. "Have I met you?"

"In a way, but you do not know," the Countess said lightly.

"Does Commodore Norrington know about our clandestine meeting?" the Puritan asked dryly.

"Of course not," the Countess said with a look of mock surprise on her feline features. "I am supposed to be his fiancee, after all, am I not?" A hungry, desirous look came into her eyes. "But I want _you_."

"You have not met me before this night," the Puritan said with a slight smile.

"As I said, I know you very well, Reverend," she returned. As she spoke, she came closer to him until he could smell the Oriental perfume that wafted from her dark tresses. Her slim white hands rested lightly around his shoulders and her face drew near to his own. However, he drew away from her touch.

Immediately, the Countess's smile became glistening and predatory. She seized the Puritan, her nails digging into his coat as she kissed him violently. Her lips did not leave his face for a full minute, and when she finally released him, his face and lips were pale, though his eyes still flashed coldly.

"You don't know why I want you," the Countess said with a cruel, covetous smile. "But you will, Reverend Skelton."


	10. A Ship Bound For Ipswich

Episode Ten: A Ship Bound For Ipswich

_Note: For any who are wondering (in particular, Johnnysdoll) I am not a New Englander geographically, but more a New Englander in spirit, if that doesn't sound too odd. I actually am preparing to move to Massachusetts in a few years and take up a professorship there, but in the meantime I am a scholar of colonial New England history and a great admirer of the Puritans, as well as all other aspects of New England life. I am currently preparing to begin a volume of New England folklore, and if I get the chance, then some time in the future I may put together a history of the Puritans. But enough of this and on with the tale at hand!_

* * *

Sparrow and Will crouched in their cell as the red coats trooped out, locking the iron grating of the jailhouse gate behind them.

"I knew that humouring that Puritan was a mistake," Sparrow muttered. "A grave one."

"But why didn't you just leave when you had the chance, as he suggested?" Will asked.

Sparrow looked a little reluctant to answer. "Well..." he said slowly. "I guess...all right, I'll admit that it did seem like it would be a lousy thing to leave a man behind to battle those redcoats alone."

Will grinned. "I knew you weren't much of a pirate, deep down."

Sparrow frowned. "I didn't say I wasn't a pirate," he retorted. "I just said I didn't want to abandon ship. But now," he gazed sullenly behind the bars of the cell. "It looks like being an old softy didn't do me much good, after all."

At that moment, they saw something that caused them both to stand up as if they had been struck with a thunderbolt. A girl in a white dress with flowing golden hair -- it was Elizabeth Swann and no other!

"What are you doing here?" Will whispered in astonishment.

"I --" she hesitated as if thinking for a moment, and then said, "I heard that Commodore Norrington had arrested you, and so I came as soon as I could." She paused again. "Where -- is Wither Skelton?"

"The Puritan?" Sparrow grunted. "Some strange lady took him off. Don't know where he is now, but he's probably having a better time of it than we are."

"Don't worry, I'll get you out," Elizabeth promised him. "But first I have to know where Wither is."

"You can ask the guards who that woman was," Will said dubiously. "And then perhaps you'll be able to find him."

* * *

There was a knock at the door. The Countess smiled, again with that same cat-like look of cruelty, at the Reverend and said, "I will go see who it is. But remember what I said."

She swept away, carrying with her the scent of sandalwood and incense. But to the Puritan, the perfumes were a choking stench, which he was glad to be rid of, for a moment at least. He heard her quiet footsteps outside the hallway and heard the door open.

Suddenly, he heard a soft tapping sound from the window across the room next to the Countess's bed. He looked up to see the Governor's daughter -- Elizabeth -- climbing through the narrow window, her white dress tearing slightly. She was out of breath, but when she caught sight of the Reverend, her face lit up instantly.

"Wither!" she whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"That's what I have been wondering these last few minutes," the Puritan replied dryly. "How did you discover my whereabouts?"

"From Norrington's guards," Elizabeth replied. "We have to leave quickly. She'll be back in no time."

The door to the bedroom suddenly opened before Elizabeth could say anything more -- and in stepped the Countess and a man wearing rich clothes and a black feathered hat.

"Barbossa!" Elizabeth breathed in horror.

"Ah, so it be Miss Swann again, eh?" he chuckled. His eyes narrowed when he saw Wither. "And a Puritan. I know ye're kind all to well, I'm afraid."

"I shall handle the Reverend," the Countess said with a slight smile that showed her pearly white teeth against the rosy crimson of her lips. "In the meantime, we will take them both to the ship."

"Aye, the _Pearl_," Barbossa nodded. "While that fool of a pirate Sparrow is in prison!"

"Where are we going?" the Puritan asked wearily.

The Countess rested a lovely white hand on his shoulder. "Do not fear. We are going to your beloved New England!" She glanced at Captain Barbossa. "Come, let us leave now!"


	11. A Little Dab of Witchcraft

Episode Eleven: A Little Dab of Witchcraft

_Note: Thanks to everyone who has been keeping up with this story. Like I said, the chapters are short but come faster the sooner I get reviews (all those compliments help!). I hope you all enjoy this next installment...oh, and to Johnnysdoll: Yes, I've heard about the crazy politics in Massachusetts, but I love your state anyhow! And of course I'll put Boston in this story! It will be colonial Boston (back then called the Massachusetts Bay Colony) -- but still Boston! _

The night was dark and the moon shone bright and ghastly over the silent sea as the black ship drifted swiftly away on the murky tide, far away from Port Royal. Elizabeth watched silently from the prow of the _Black Pearl_; nearby, Captain Barbossa shouted orders to his crew and the Countess stood, lovely and gloating, with a panther's calculating eye.

"No use trying to escape, of course," Barbossa chuckled, glancing at the Puritan who was standing grimly in the shadows of the ship's mast.

"Will we lock 'em in the brig, sir?" one of Barbossa's crew asked with a wicked grin.

"No, I think not," the Countess replied smoothly. "Captain Barbossa, you may show Elizabeth the room she had on her last little voyage with you...and dear Reverend," she glanced at the Puritan. "I will show you _your _room."

She took his hand and led him to a ship's cabin beneath deck. After opening the oak-panelled door, she stood aside as he went in. "Good night," she said with a thin smile.

He smiled coldly and said, "I am sure that _you_ shall have pleasant dreams."

The Countess shut the door behind him and locked it with a sharp twist. Then she turned to see Barbossa standing nearby.

"Well, they're all safe and sound," he muttered. "I hope your idea about sailing to New England..."

"Leave everything to me," the Countess returned, her eyes fixed on the horizon. "We may have to stop at the town of Innsmouth -- which is off the coast of Massachusetts' shores -- if we run into a squall, but I believe we will reach our destination."

"Innsmouth?" Barbossa repeated. "I've never heard of it." He shook his head. "I'm heading below deck m'self."

The Countess did not bother to reply, but waited until she heard his footsteps recede into the background and finally die away. Then, with footsteps as quiet and deadly as a cat's, she crept towards the Puritan's bedroom. As she stood beside it, her ear pressed against the smooth woodwork of the door, she could hear nothing. Swiftly, she inserted a key into the lock of the door and carefully pushed it open.

The interior was dark, save for the moonlight that poured in through the nearby window. She could see the dim form of the man asleep in bed; the silver moonlight streamed over his dark hair, pale face, and quiet, softly-drawn features. And as the Countess stepped forward, the moonlight revealed her raven-like tresses and unnatural crimson lips as her mouth curved in that same ravenously desirous look.

A cupboard sat in a corner of the room, and from it the Countess took a silver bowl filled with water, with bits of myrrh and other scented leaves mixed inside. Dipping the tips of her fingers into the bowl, she sprinkled the strange water over the sleeping form of the prisoner. Then she set the bowl aside and whispered words in a strange tongue. Instantly, the man's breathing became softer and more regular. When the Countess saw that he had fallen into a deeper sleep, she crouched closer until her face was only inches from his own. And then she kissed him slowly and deliberately on the lips as if she had waited centuries for this and was finally able to savour the moment. She twined her fingers in his hair and her kiss became deeper and more insatiable.

He began to stir, as if slowly awakening from his unnaturally deep slumber, but he did not struggle and the Countess knew that he must still, for the most part, be asleep. But she could feel that a restlessness had come over him as if he was experiencing a troubling dream. However, the same cruel, amused smile twisted her lips, and she bent down and kissed him once more.

This time, she could feel that he was awakening more fully, and she heard him whisper wearily, "Who is it?"

"I, of course, dear Reverend," she replied mockingly. "As it is I who caused your unnatural slumber just a moment ago."

"Those dreams," he said softly, as if the memory was almost too great an agony to endure. "You are the one who caused them?"

"Of course," she replied.

"Then you are a witch?"

"Right again, dear Reverend," she laughed. "That should give your dear Puritan mind something to worry over! And perhaps this bit of information gives you a clue as to how I know of you."

"I don't understand," he retorted. "Did you perhaps see me in some crystal ball of yours?"

"You might say that," the Countess said. "Or you might say that some of the dark beings whom I gain my powers from, promised you to me. You see, I saw you years ago, centuries ago, before you even existed, in a dream. And I realized that you must be mine -- that I must have you. The Old Ones knew of my desires and promised me that in return for my services to them, I would have you."

She leaned forward until her spicy breath touched his face. "Now do you understand why I want you and why I shall have you no matter what you do?"

"No, I don't understand," he replied coldly. "Because even if you have captured me, you are not even close to capturing my heart."

A fiery, raging look came into the Countess's eyes as before. "You fool, I could cast a spell over you that would cause you to love me more than I even love you, if such a love is possible." She hesitated and her voice became lower and more deadly. "But that would not satisfy me the way it would if I could cause you to love me naturally." She smiled, and her smile was once again feline and cruel. "And no matter what Puritan ideas you have now, I shall win you, never fear, Reverend." She kissed him lingeringly on the lips and moved towards the door. "Remember what I have said," she murmured. "You have not lost this battle yet."

"And take care that you remember what I said as well," the Puritan returned wryly. "For you have not won yet either."


	12. A Midnight Conversation

Episode Twelve: A Midnight Conversation

_Note: Not Human and Nuriel – thank you both for being such loyal readers! Yes, the Countess is a rather shady lady, isn't she? And Johnnysdoll: Of course I still love your state! And yes, I've heard about New England's erratic climate…right now I am trying to decide where I am going to settle down in Massachusetts. I have my eyes on someplace in Essex County right now, perhaps Topsfield or Danvers, but I have not made my mind up._

Elizabeth sank on the cotton sheets of her bed in the ship's cabin that Barbossa had given her, but she was unable to go to sleep. She remembered Barbossa – how could she forget his terrible tale about his unnatural immortality which he said was gained from blaspheming the dark gods of the Aztecs. But she had seen him slain? How had he come alive?

And that Countess – who was she and where had she come from? Elizabeth remembered the gloating way that she had cast her eyes on Wither Skelton…

Strange sounds coming from behind the far side of the wall caused the young woman to start and look up. After a moment, she crept closer to the wall and pressed her ear against the cold wood. She could hear nothing, however, for several minutes; then she thought she could make out voices. She listened, breathless, but could make nothing out of the words. After a moment, she heard a sound like a door slamming and the sound of key turning in a lock.

As her hand brushed against the wall, she accidentally touched a raised portion of the woodwork, and she instantly felt the wall slide inward and she felt herself stumble into the darkness of another room.

As she knelt in the pitch-blackness of her new surroundings, she heard the secret panel that she had somehow accidentally opened, close behind her. At the same time, she heard a sound in front of her, and a soft, weary voice whisper, "Who is there?"

"Wither?" Elizabeth whispered.

"Elizabeth – what are you doing here?" she could hear the Puritan's voice warm with relief, and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see his outline in the moonlight as he rose out of bed and came towards her, wearing a dark cloak.

"I found a secret panel that connected my room with yours," Elizabeth replied. "I don't think that Barbossa knows about it and _I _only found it by accident."

"I am glad it is you," Wither said grimly. "I feared for a moment that the Countess had returned for another conversation."

"What does she want with you?" Elizabeth asked.

"Something unholy, I fear," the Puritan said with a dry smile.

"How can we escape?" Elizabeth persisted anxiously.

"I have been pondering that very same problem," the Puritan replied. "Clearly, the fact that we are trapped on a boat complicates our chances."

"If only Jack and Will weren't locked up," Elizabeth said despairingly. "They are the only ones who could even guessabout what has happened to us."

The Puritan nodded thoughtfully as he gazed past her, out the window at the restless sea. Elizabeth could not help but wonder how much he knew of her feelings for him—and how much he would even care. He seemed a solitary, alienated man; certainly not one that longed for the company of others.

"How did you know to come looking for me?" Wither's words broke into her thoughts. She groped for a reply.

"I—I heard you had been arrested," she stammered.

"But I had hardly been arrested more than a half an hour when you came to the Countess's house," the Puritan pointed out, studying her expression closely. "How, then, did you hear that I had been arrested?"

Elizabeth felt her cheeks flame and her mouth felt dry. "I followed you to see where you were going," she finally said. "I—was afraid that something would happen to you?"

"Why?" he asked, bewildered.

"Because I love you," Elizabeth finally let the words out, and as she did, she felt herself growing hot with self-consciousness and she started to turn away. But before she could, he took her gently, his eyes dark and searching as he watched her. Her eyes met his and for a moment she felt that same strange feeling she had felt that first night when she and her father had shared a dinner with this strange man. But instead of looking away as he had before, he held her and kissed her softly on the lips. His touch was surprisingly cold, but Elizabeth felt herself racked with a feverish intensity and she passionately kissed him back. After a moment, she drew away and looked at his face. He looked breathless and pale, but he held her tenderly.

"I think you should leave now," he said finally. "Someone could come and find you here, and we mustn't let them know about the secret panel between our two rooms."

She still clung to him and whispered forcefully, "I still don't trust that Countess—there is something about her that is horrible—even worse than Barbossa!"

"You are probably right in that regard," Wither said with an ironic smile. "But please go back to your room. Heaven knows I would like your company a little longer, but our captors could break in on us at any time."

Elizabeth slowly drew away from him, and moved back to the secret panel. She felt the wall and found a raised portion which she touched and which caused the wall to slide aside, revealing the entrance to her own room.

"Goodnight, my dear," he said softly as she stepped into her own bedroom and the secret panel slid shut once more.


	13. In Less Than A Week

Episode Thirteen: In Less Than A Week

_Note: I'm glad you all are enjoying this so much! I'm a rural sort of person myself, but Boston sounds good too, johnnysdoll…like I said, I'm still thinking about where I'm going to finally settle down. And now, here's the next chapter…_

"So what are we doing here?" Will demanded. He, Sparrow, and the Commodore were seated in the Governor's dining room. Governor Swann was nervously fingering the edge of his wig and glanced around the table.

"My daughter -- has been kidnapped again," the Governor finally said.

"By whom?" Will exclaimed, starting up.

"Sit down, Mr. Turner," the Commodore said, raising an eyebrow. "As it happens, my fiance has disappeared as well."

"And the _Black Pearl _was seen leaving Port Royal's harbour," the Governor put in.

"What!" It was Sparrow's turn to start up. "Who took the _Pearl_?"

"We don't know," the Commodore replied. "But we are going to try and track her. And, unfortunately, we need both of you to help us."

"As I said before," the Governor said primly. "Piracy, under certain circumstances, can be the right choice!"

"I hated it when you first said that and I loath it still more the second time," the Commodore cut in. "The point is, we need you two to come along. What do you say?"

"I must see what happened to Elizabeth!" Will cried.

"And the _Pearl_," Sparrow muttered.

"Then let us set off as soon as possible!" the Governor exclaimed.

* * *

On the _Black Pearl_, an entirely different sort of breakfast was being held.

"With the aid of certain dark arts," the Countess said, leaning back in her chair. "We should reach the coast of New England in a week."

"Excellent!" Barbossa chuckled. "I am looking forward to meeting these Puritan upstarts that I've heard so much about!" He bit into an apple with a meditative twinkle in his eye. "And in the meantime, we need to decide what to do with our prisoners."

"Will you leave them up to me?" the Countess asked, her voice a soft purr.

Barbossa grinned. "You gave me my life back—and my ability to enjoy a wholesome apple! I'd say you can do anything you want with them. I know you favour the Reverend."

The Countess's smile was as thin as a knife. "We will be betrothed as soon as we reach land. The ceremonies to the dark gods will be performed."

Barbossa stopped chewing the apple and glanced up sharply. "The dark gods?"

"Of course," the Countess replied. "I am bound to them—as are you. And the Reverend, though he does not know it."

"I—_bound to them?_" Barbossa's voice cracked a little.

"They are the ones who gave you back your life and sensation," the Countess toyed with a gold chain that hung about her throat. "It is natural that your life should belong to them now."

The pirate had turned white. "Do they expect me to do something for them in return?"

The Countess smiled. "We will see."

"And the Reverend—how is he bound to them?"

"That is something between him and I," the woman replied.

There was a brisk knock on the door of the dining cabin. "Come in," the Countess called.

The door was pushed open and two of Barbossa's grizzled thugs entered.

"We brought the prisoners here," one of them said gruffly, shoving Elizabeth Swann and the Puritan ahead of them and departing, leaving the two prisoners alone with the two captors.

"Sit down and have some breakfast," Barbossa said with a sickly grin that looked something like a grimace. Elizabeth and Wither Skelton did as they were bade, both sitting at the table and attempting to partake of the food, but Elizabeth could not help but notice the way the Countess continued to watch the Puritan; it was a sickening look, a look of pure animalistic possessiveness.

"Soon we will arrive in your land," the Countess said finally, watching the Puritan's face for a reaction.

"Which part of it?" Wither asked, as he drank deeply from a silver wine chalice.

"I thought that you Puritans don't drink," the Countess mocked.

"Then you certainly have never been to any of our funerals," Wither said with a faint smile. "The amount of wine we have there would shock the hypocritical Cavaliers that rule England now."

"Perhaps we shall see soon enough," the Countess replied. "For I plan to arrive off the shores of Massachusetts Bay Colony in a week at the most."

"That's impossible," Elizabeth put in. "We are in the Caribbean and New England is far to the north."

The Countess's eyes shifted to the young woman and a contemptuous twinkle glittered in her scintillate blue eyes. "By my own arts," she replied. At a nod, two thugs who had been standing idly by the door, came forward.

"Take them back to their rooms," the Countess said. As the prisoners rose from the table, she stood also and followed to make certain that her order was carried out. True to her order, the pirates forced Elizabeth back into the chamber where she had been locked before, and did the same with the Puritan, though the Countess followed him into his chamber, shutting the door behind them. The curtains of the chamber window were closed, so that the interior was unnaturally dark. However, the Reverend could see the voluptuous outline of the Countess as she leaned against the door, a sultry smile playing on her crimson lips.

"Once we reach your New England, we shall harbour at Innsmouth for a time," she said. "You have heard of Innsmouth, I take it?"

"I have," he replied. "I have heard that it is a harbour of evil and that many people have mysteriously disappeared there."

"Well, then it should interest you!" she said playfully. "You're a Reverend—perhaps you can convert those heathens there!" She moved closer, her silken, close-fitting white dress rustling against the wooden floor of the ship. "And do you know what we shall do once we are there?" Her voice was still playful, but her eyes gleamed like a cat's. "We shall be betrothed there under the sacraments of the dark gods—which are more powerful than your God!" she spat. "After all, where is He now? Has He saved you from me now?" She smiled cruelly then at the troubled, wistful agony that darkened his eyes at these words, and she bent closer and kissed him on the lips.

* * *

Elizabeth, who was leaning against the wall separating her chamber from Wither's, listened to these words; and as she did, tears of helpless fury formed in her eyes and she clenched her fists.

Whatever the Countess said or did, the girl would do all she could to stop the witch.


	14. Dark Coastline

Episode Fourteen: Dark Coastline

_Note: I admit it -- I'm eager to reach lovely New England as well (in this story, as well as real life!). And I will be particularly interested in seeing whether my descriptions match real life, since I have a New Englander screening my chapters! It struck me that I have another story called "From Gotham to Dunwich" that I'm working on, which is also set in New England. You may want to check that out sometime! But on with the chapter..._

"We've been sailin' for several weeks now, sir, and no sign of 'em yet," Mr. Gibbs muttered, squinting at the horizon on the deck of the _Interceptor_, and then at the coastline that they were sailing nearby.

"This is the fastest ship in the Royal Navy," the Commodore said, gritting his teeth. "Little good it does us."

"We can guess the general direction they're going," Will mused, gazing at the tall, dark forest that rose up from the coast on the ship's western side. "Since they're always on the horizon, just out of reach. It's amazing we've been able to keep up with them this long."

"Amazing?" Sparrow snorted. "Under normal circumstances, I'd say the speed they've been going is impossible!"

"It's this unearthly wind that keeps a-blowing behind us!" Mr. Gibbs declared. "The devil 'imself must 'a sent it!"

"Thankfully, because of this wind, we've been able to keep up with them, too," the Commodore said. "I don't believe they know we're following them and I'd like to keep it that way, for now."

"Which part of the country do you think we are in now?" the Governor asked.

The Commodore spread out a yellowed map on the deck of the ship and the five men peered down at it. The Commodore traced a finger over the eastern coast of Massachusetts.

"I'd say we're around...there. Tomorrow we should reach the Massachusetts Bay Colony. At the moment..." he glanced up at the coast to their west. "I'd say we're nearing the harbour of some town called Innsmouth..."

* * *

For the prisoners of the _Black Pearl_, the last few weeks had been utter hell. Most of the time they were kept locked in their chambers without any knowledge of what their captors plans were, or how close they were to land.

Through these tedious, agonizing weeks, Wither and Elizabeth had little time to meet or form any plans for escape together. The confinement and torment of knowing that somehow the Countess somehow had unsavoury plans for the Reverend, nearly drove her mad -- but at the same time, the gnawing anxiety served to whet her desire to find an escape.

One morning, she overheard the Countess speaking to Captain Barbossa, and she heard the words "_lay anchor today_." Her heart stopped. Were they close to land, then? Perhaps finally at New England's coast?

The voices that she heard grew silent and she guessed that Barbossa and the Countess had passed on to another area of the boat. Deciding to take a chance that she had not dared to take the past few weeks, she opened the secret panel that connected her room with the Reverend's, and crept inside.

She saw him standing by the window, gazing with a faint, wistful glance at the dark coastline that they were sailing past. He turned in surprise at the sound of her footfall.

"Elizabeth -- you shouldn't be here," he said softly. She saw that his eyes were dark and troubled, and his whole demeanour seemed one of wearied hopelessness. She wondered what sort of things the Countess had been saying to him during her long visits with him -- what sort of poisonous thoughts...

"I had to come," she returned. "I'm not going to let that woman frighten me into staying away from you either." She touched his hand and once again noticed how cold it was.

"I don't know if there is any way for us to escape yet," the Reverend said softly. "And I am afraid to try, for even if I escape, it will be nearly impossible for us both to escape together."

"Once we reach land, we'll think of something," Elizabeth said fiercely, clinging to him and leaning her face against his shoulder. He turned and kissed her face and she could feel the coldness of his breath chill her.

"Elizabeth," he finally said. "I believe there is a way for you to escape. Today we are putting ashore – I know this for a fact because the Countess told me herself." He hesitated and his eyes were dark. "She told me that if I promised to give myself up to her and allow myself to be betrothed to her, that she would release you and spare your life."

For a moment, Elizabeth's mind was so blurred with fury that she could not comprehend what he was saying. "You didn't agree to this, did you?" she whispered.

He looked at her, and his expression was one of pained despair. "Not yet. But can't you see that it's the only way for you to escape?"

"Escape to what?" Elizabeth returned. "Port Royal? My place is here in your New England – with _you_." She held on to him more tightly; her mind still felt as if it were on the verge of a collapse, her anger was so great. She could only press her face against the black cloth of his coat and hide her tears of rage. His cold hands caressed her hair gently, and finally he spoke.

"You're right," he said. "I shouldn't have despaired. God willing, there may still be a way for us to escape. Though from what I have heard of this place called Innsmouth, it is not a welcome place for any who are not under the rule of sorcery. But you needn't worry – I will not give myself up to the Countess," he said with a sardonic smile.

"We _will _escape," Elizabeth said with that same fierce determination in her voice. She kissed him full on the lips, almost desperately.

At that moment, the door of the chamber suddenly opened and the lithe, voluptuous figure of the Countess stood framed in the doorway. Her eyes flashed hellishly when she saw Elizabeth.

"What are you doing here?" she said in a voice little more than a whisper.

Elizabeth faced the woman, her head raised in defiance. "What are you going to do now?" she shot back. "Kill me? Even if you do, can't you see that he doesn't love you?"

"Ah, the jealous little tart," the Countess said in a silky voice. "Really, Reverend, I should have thought you would have had better taste." She moved closer, still with her blue eyes shifting from Elizabeth to the Puritan and back. "Well, you have sealed your fate," she mused, looking at the girl. "I was thinking of giving you a chance of escape, but now I think it would satisfy me more to see you offered to the Old Ones, as I intended. Both of you, then, will come with me to Innsmouth." Her eyes flashed. "Now leave this room – the way you came."

Elizabeth stood silent and unmoving, looking the woman in the eye unflinchingly. With a hiss of almost cat-like rage, the Countess raised her hand and raked at Elizabeth's cheek. Instantly, Elizabeth slapped her in the face. The Countess stared at her with a look of astonishment, and then pulled from the folds of her dress, a long, thin dagger.

Almost like lightning, Wither Skelton seized the Countess's wrist just as her arm moved upwards to stab Elizabeth. Her eyes seemed to spit venom at him and she furiously struggled to free her arm from his cold, implacable grip, straining to slash at the young woman. She managed to writhe loose a little, but the Reverend instantly struck her in the face and she fell unconscious.

Elizabeth stared dazedly down at the woman. "I am sorry that I had to do that, for I feel it wrong to strike a woman," Wither said grimly. "But in that case, it was all too necessary."

"This is our chance to escape!" Elizabeth exclaimed, her eyes shining as she seized the dagger that lay fallen on the floor. "Barbossa and his crew have no idea what happened!"

The blast of a cannon suddenly rocked the ship, causing Elizabeth to loose her balance. At the same time, a pirate thug who was rushing past the open door of the chamber, caught sight of them. "How'd the door git open?" he snarled. "We'll deal with yew later!" He slammed the door shut and locked it. Elizabeth could hear more cannons being fired and wondered who could be attacking them.

"Well, there go our chances for an easy escape," she said despairingly.

"The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away," Wither said with an ironic smile. "Still, though, all this may work to our favour."


	15. Into the Forest

Episode Fifteen: Into the Forest

_Note: Ha, ha – I don't think New Englanders are cold by a long shot! Some of the nicest people I've talked to are New Englanders, so don't worry Johnnysdoll – I don't think any such thing about New Englanders in general! But Wither Skelton is a different story. You are right that he is rather warm with Elizabeth, but he has a cold kind of personality as well. You'll see what I mean, the farther the story goes. And Not Human has definitely been speculating that there is something sinister in Skelton's cold hands…but I say no more. I don't want to give anything away, so I shall merely say that there is something strange about him…_

"How do you think we can escape?" Elizabeth asked. Again, a cannon blast shook the boat's sturdy wooden foundation. The acrid smell of gunpowder was beginning to fill the air.

Wither nodded towards the port hole. "A tight fit, but I think both of us can make it through there. And in the middle of this battle, I don't think our pursuers will notice."

Elizabeth moved across the room to the porthole and using the dagger to shatter the glass.

"Let's get out of here," she breathed. "I'll go first."

"No, you won't," he said sternly. "What if one of our enemy sees you and shoots? It's best if I go first so that I can make sure that it is safe."

Elizabeth tried to argue, but the Puritan was grimly implacable. "Very well," she said unwillingly. Wither slipped awkwardly out the porthole and Elizabeth waited, hoping that none of Barbossa's crew from the deck would notice.

But no shots were fired at Wither and so after taking a deep breath, she slipped her dress off until she wore only her white petticoat and climbed out the porthole, falling into the black, cold waves of the sea.

For a terrible moment she plunged underneath the waves, but soon she felt a hand grasp her wrist and pull her up, and she rose to the surface, gasping. She saw the Reverend swimming awkwardly next to her.

"As you can see, it isn't very often that I have to do this," he said wryly. "I think our captors are sufficiently distracted enough so that they won't notice whether we swim to shore or not."

Elizabeth nodded. "And then what will we do?"

"Try to reach Massachusetts Bay Colony," Wither replied as they swam towards shore. Soon Elizabeth felt the gritty sand underneath her feet and they waded to the bank of the coast, underneath the shelter of the tall oak trees.

Elizabeth shivered in the cold wind. "This is certainly not Port Royal anymore," she remarked.

"That's true," Wither agreed with a dry smile. "But then, you did say that your place was here in New England, if I remember correctly."

"Well, I just might change my mind at that and force you to come back to the tropics with me," Elizabeth returned humourously.

They could see from the shore that the _Pearl _was being attacked by some unknown ship further down the coast.

"Who do you think could be attacking them?" Elizabeth asked.

"Impossible to tell," Wither replied. "In any case, it doesn't matter. Most likely, it's another corsair ship." He turned towards the forest. "We must reach some settlement before nightfall."

Elizabeth nodded. "Let's go now."

* * *

"Fire with a will!" Mr. Gibbs exclaimed.

"No, no, we don't want to _destroy _the ship," the Commodore said impatiently as Sparrow hovered in the background, wringing his hands. "What we're trying to do is show these barbarians that we are not afraid to use force against them. At the moment, however, we need to try and make contact with them. Perhaps we can bargain with them for Elizabeth – and perhaps the Puritan, if we have the time and inclination for it."

"Should we roll out the sweeps?" Mr. Gibbs asked, clearly invigorated by the scent of gunpowder.

"It's _run _out the sweeps, not _roll _out," Sparrow said irritably. "And actually, I don't know whether we brought along the proper flags for signaling a ship to negotiate."

"If they run out the white flag of surrender, we'll know we made an impression," the Commodore peered through his spyglass at the _Pearl_. To his astonishment, the ship seemed to be fading away; not growing smaller, but just disappearing.

"Impossible," he muttered.

But when he blinked, the ship was gone.

* * *

It had been an hour and still Wither and Elizabeth pressed on through the forest, the Puritan guided by some inner instinct towards the general direction of the colony that they sought. Suddenly, to her right, Elizabeth saw a form through the trees and a voice called, "Ho! Who goes there?"

She and Wither turned to see a man wearing Puritan garb similar to that of Wither's, shouldering a rifle and peering at them dubiously.

"I am Wither Skelton and this is Elizabeth Swann," Wither replied. "We are bound for Massachusetts Bay Colony. Can you direct us thither?"

"Aye, Reverend," the man replied. "I think I've heard of you now. Massachusetts Bay Colony is not far from here and I indeed hail from there. I will accompany you both, since I can see from the state of your garb that ye have been in strange straits of late."

"That is certainly true," Wither returned. "But it is best if we hurry."

"And can you tell us how far Ipswich is from here?" Elizabeth asked.

The strange man raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Ipswich? Is that where ye be bound?"

"All in good time," Wither said patiently. "We intend to stay at Massachusetts Bay Colony, at the moment. Ipswich is too far out of our way for us to reach before nightfall."

"Aye, ye're right about that," the stranger agreed. "My name's Miles Bradstreet, Reverend, and I'll take ye both to Massachusetts Bay Colony. We should be there in less than an hour."

And with these words, the three pushed onwards into the forest, leaving the dark coast behind them.


	16. Boston

Episode Sixteen: Boston

_Note: Ah, the Old North Church in Boston! I have a special place in my heart for the north end of Boston, since I have heard that that is the section of the town with the most Antiquity. And yes, Boston is beautiful – I've never been there, but I'm preparing to go there in at least a year or two, if not sooner. Un-fortunately…the Old North Church was not founded until around the 1720's, if I remember correctly, in my tale is set during the late part of the seventeenth century. Which really riles me, since I love that old place just like you! Oh, well, I will certainly have to include it another story! And now for the next chapter…

* * *

_

"I don't understand it," Commodore Norrington shook his head. "That bloody ship was right in front of me and now it's gone!"

Sparrow peered anxiously into the fog that rose about the _Interceptor_. "Impossible!" he muttered. "They must have ducked into some cove."

Mr. Gibbs shook his head. "No, they're gone," he muttered. "It's unnatural, I tell ye!"

* * *

The thick forest which had surrounded them seemed to part and Elizabeth could see ahead the rooftops of small, sturdy houses in the midst of a clearing.

"Here it is!" Miles said proudly. "And we just arrived before nightfall, too." As they neared the town, Elizabeth could see smoke curling from the chimneys of several of the white-washed little houses.

"It suddenly struck me – I need to think of a place for you to stay, Reverend," Miles scratched his head and squinted in thought. "And this young miss as well."

"Any place will do," Wither replied. "We certainly don't need anything fancy."

After a moment's thought, Miles said, "You both can stay with me and my wife. We have a spare room and bed that we can set you two up with." A cold wind rushed past and the man shivered. "Some folks say that we're going to have our first frost tonight, so I'd bundle up well," he remarked. By this time, they had reached the outskirts of the colony. Elizabeth could see several people talking and laughing on the village green – a clearing in the center of the village in front of a white-steepled church. Elizabeth was amazed to see that the men and women of the village wore ordinary clothes of differing colours – not all black and white, as she had been led to believe.

By the dirt pathway on which they were walking, Elizabeth noticed a sour-faced man sitting in the stocks. He glowered at her. "Don't know why I came here," he muttered. "The weather's bad, the cookin's awful, and the parsons get in a tissy if somebody does a little cussin'!"

"Don't mind him," Miles said. "He's always trying to start trouble around here. Personally, I don't know why he came here, either!"

"It's what comes of joinin' the wrong congregation, I expect," the man in the stocks grumbled.

"Who are these visitors you have brought us, Mr. Bradstreet?" Elizabeth heard a voice of stern authority behind them, and she turned to see a tall, gaunt man dressed in the kind of formal Puritan garb that Wither was wearing.

"This is Reverend Wither Skelton and…a lady," Miles replied.

The tall, somber man glanced at Wither with a measure of respect. "I have heard a great deal about you," he remarked. "You are the Reverend of Ipswich, are you not?"

Wither smiled modestly, evidently embarrassed by the new attention being paid to him. "That's right," he said.

"I am Reverend John Cotton, the minister in this town," the man replied. "And I must say, I am glad you are here. We have been having a great deal of trouble in our colony, as of late, and perhaps you could help us."

"What sort of trouble?" Elizabeth spoke up.

Reverend Cotton glanced at her in surprise. "Forgive me, miss, I neglected to ask what your name was," he said with a thin-lipped smile.

"I am Elizabeth Swann," Elizabeth replied.

A burly man stepped forward – he had a red beard and a jovial grin. "Well, on behalf of the rest of this grand colony of Massachusetts Bay, I greet you both!" he declared. "I am Governor Hutchins – a stand-in for the ex-Governor Winthrop who was only recently expelled from this colony."

"An egregious nuisance the fellow was," Reverend Cotton mused. "He's back in England now, I believe."

"Well, good riddance," Governor Hutchins said. "Anyhow, where are you two going to stay?"

"Well, I thought I'd let them stay at my house," Miles suggested.

"I forbid it!" Governor Hutchins declared. "Mr. Bradstreet, my good fellow, you don't need to use your coal up providing for two extra people in your house. I will house them both myself as long as they decide to stay here!"

"I hope that you both choose to stay for the town meeting tomorrow evening," Reverend Cotton added grimly. "There are some important things we have to discuss, and I would like for you to be there, Skelton."

Wither nodded. "Of course, I will try to come," he said gravely.

Governor Hutchins glanced over his shoulder. "Some folks have been whisperin' of witchcraft," he admitted. "And suggesting that it might be coming from that town called Innsmouth."

"Innsmouth?" Wither said in surprise.

"Have you heard of it?" Reverend Cotton asked sharply.

"Yes," Elizabeth said. "In fact, we were captured on a boat headed by a pirate and a sorceress, and they were going to take us to Innsmouth as sacrifices to the 'Old Ones'."

"_What!_" Governor Hutchins' jaw dropped.

"I'll explain it to the whole town tomorrow evening," Wither said with a slight smile. "But I think we may have an answer to your complaints of witchcraft."

"That would be a miracle," Reverend Cotton replied. "Perhaps your coming was meant by God to prevent further deaths."

"Deaths?" Elizabeth felt a chill.

Governor Hutchins nodded, again glancing over his shoulder at the darkening sky. "It's getting late. Best if we head to my house and think over these affairs in the morning."

Reverend Cotton nodded. "All the big names are coming tomorrow to discuss the situation. Increase Mather and his son Cotton Mather, Francis Wigglesworth, and Nathaniel Ward, to name a few."

"Excellent!" Wither's said, his dark eyes sparkling with anticipation. Governor Hutchins rubbed his hands.

"Oh, how I love a good town meeting!" he chuckled.

* * *

Governor Hutchins' house was not far away, since it was located on the edge of the village green. Elizabeth followed silently. She was amazed at meeting the Puritans—they had not been anything like the way she had imagined. She had visioned a grim, humourless group and she had found that the reality was something very different.

Governor Hutchins' house was a tall, gambrel-roofed dwelling with lovely white-washed walls. The interior was plainly, but tastefully decorated, with a few sticks of homemade wooden furniture. Hutchins pointed to the stairway and said, "You both can share that room upstairs. It's a cold night, so that's what I would recommend. A good night to you both!" he added.

"Thank you, sir," Wither replied as they both headed upstairs to the room that the Governor had designated. It was a small, sparsely furnished chamber with a single bed, but it had a breathtaking view of the harbour near the colony.

"He doesn't expect us to share the same bed, does he?" Elizabeth asked in surprise.

"Of course," Wither said, surprised. Then he smiled wryly. "Oh, I see what you're thinking. This might seem strange, but this custom of two betrothed but as yet unmarried people sharing the same bed is quite common here in New England. Of course, we don't encourage anything immoral," he added with another dry smile.

Elizabeth thought for a moment. "Well, I suppose it makes sense, since it is much colder here than in New England."

"Exactly!" Wither replied, taking his coat off and laying it on a small chest in the corner of the room. He closed the shutters of the window, leaving the room almost pitch-black. Elizabeth could feel the coldness of the winter night beginning to fill the air around her. Shivering, she climbed under the cotton sheets of the narrow bed. She could feel Wither lying next to her and she could see in the single shaft of moonlight that seeped through a crack in the window, that he still wore the somber colours that he ordinarily wore. It made him look preternaturally pallid, particularly with the moonlight shining over his face as he lay against the pillow. Elizabeth drew nearer to him.

"You're so cold," she whispered. "Should we ask Governor Hutchins for some coal so we can start a fire in here?"

"I don't feel cold at all," he replied, his voice soft with surprise. As she drew nearer to him, he held her gently. Though she shivered at his touch, she did not draw away, and finally fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

_Note: By this time, I expect that you all are as stunned as Elizabeth by my portrayal of the Puritans. However, this is actually an accurate picture of them; they did indeed have a custom wherein betrothed people could share a bed—still clothed—because of the lousy heating systems back in those days. And the popular image of Puritans always wearing somber black and white is actually a falsehood; the Puritans wore any colour they felt like wearing! Anyhow, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, for there is more to come…_


	17. Welcome to Innsmouth

Episode Seventeen: Welcome to Innsmouth

_Note: I'm so glad everyone's still keeping up with this story! Again, I'll add that everything in that last chapter was in keeping with historical New England. Also, for any who might have mistaken my motives in that last chapter…as a Christian—and as any intelligent and cautious human being—I do not condone modern day habits of live-in, unmarried couples or even an unmarried couple spending a night alone. However, I trust that my readers understand the difference between the seventeenth century and our times enough to know that what might have been safe then is certainly not safe now. By the way…due to new rules by this is the last time I will start a chapter with this sort of introduction to my readers, and from now on I will respond personally to each review I receive. And now…on with the next chapter!

* * *

_

Ten miles from Arkham I had struck the trail  
That rides the cliff-edge over Boynton Beach,  
And hoped that just at sunset I could reach  
The crest that looks on Innsmouth in the vale.  
Far out at sea was a retreating sail  
White as hard years of ancient winds could bleach  
But evil with some portent beyond speech  
So that I did not wave my hand or hail.

Sails out of Innsmouth! Echoing old renown  
Of long-dead times, but now a too-swift night  
Is closing in, and I have reached the height  
Whence I so often scan the distant town  
The spires and roofs are there – but look! The gloom  
Sinks on dark lanes, as lightless as the tomb!

– _from _H.P. Lovecraft's _Fungi From Yuggoth_

"We've lost them, no doubt about it," Sparrow said grimly. "It's been a day and there's still no sign of them."

"Well, there's no point in turning back," Will Turner declared resolutely. "I think we should move onward. What do you think, Norrington?"

The Commodore nodded. "There must have been a fog…or something," he said uncertainly. "They're still out there, I'm sure."

As the _Interceptor _moved swiftly through the silent waters, drawing closer to the darkly forested banks on the shore, Will caught sight of a steeple and the grey rooftops of houses, farther down the bank.

"Take a look at that!" he exclaimed. "It looks like some sort of town or harbour…"

The Commodore peered at the town through his spyglass. "A town or harbour…" he agreed. "It certainly must be that place called Innsmouth that I mentioned earlier." He glanced at the rest of his comrades. "What do you men say about stopping here and storing up on supplies before we press on?"

"I don't like the idea of stopping," Will retorted.

"Yes, but we're running low on water!" Governor Swann put in. "It would be unwise for us to push forward, since the next harbour is quite far away."

"Well, there's always Massachusetts Bay Colony," Norrington said sourly. "They're not all that far off. However—"

"However, I dislike the idea of staying at any colony run by those Whiggish scoundrels who call themselves _Puritans_," the Governor sniffed. "I think that 'Prude' would be a better word for them, myself!"

"Then we'll stop here at Innsmouth," Norrington decided. "But not for long. As Will pointed out, we have to keep after the _Pearl_."

"I don't like the idea of stayin' at this place," Mr. Gibbs muttered as the _Interceptor _drew closer to the grey-roofed, fog-bound village huddled close to the shore. "Innsmouth…never 'eard naught but ill that came from this place! Tales o' South Sea Islanders and the sorcery that they brought…"

"I wouldn't worry, Gibbs," Norrington said with a smirk. "As long as it's only superstitious villagers that we have to worry about, I think we'll be fine."

After anchoring the _Interceptor _off the shores of Innsmouth, the five men—Governor Swann, Mr. Gibbs, Commodore Norrington, Will Turner, and Jack Sparrow—climbed into a smaller boat and rowed out towards the mist-wrapped harbour. No other vessels were moored in front of the village, save a few fishing boats ornamented with strange designs and queer almost Eastern looking symbols. Will wondered where the villagers could have come across such designs. As they peered through the thick, white fog, they could see no sign of any villagers. The place, in fact, looked nearly abandoned.

"Perhaps the natives have attacked this place and left all the inhabitants for dead," Governor Swann suggested, gulping.

"I doubt that, sir," Commodore Norrington said calmly. "I expect the natives would have sunk these fishing boats if that had been the case."

"I hope so," Mr. Gibbs muttered. "But remember what I told ye! There's somethin' fearsome 'bout this town that I can't quite put my finger on…yet!"  
Will swallowed. He knew that Gibbs was full of all sorts of superstitious nonsense, but he couldn't help feeling a bit nervous, especially since it was true that no villagers had been sighted yet.

"What sort of things have you heard about Innsmouth?" he whispered.

"Ah, I wouldn't want to be tellin' a young lad like you about 'em," Mr. Gibbs grunted. "After all, I could be wrong, you know. But I doubt it." He leaned forward. "Don't tell the Commodore I'm tellin' you this, since he wouldn't believe it anyhow, but I've heard tales of disappearances around this place…and what's more, a lot of folk have claimed that there have been deals with the devil done in this place. Aye, and more'n I care to say right now."

The Commodore tethered the ship to an old wooden post of a pier overlooking the harbour, and the five men climbed onto the wooden deck of the pier and walked towards the shore. Through the mist, Will saw a dim shape rise before them—a man in his late fifties with a checkered shirt, sparse hair, thick lips, and wide staring eyes.

"Who be ye?" he said, his voice queer and hollow and his protuberant eyes darting back and forth between the five men.

"I am an officer of the Royal Navy," the Commodore said stiffly. "We are here to pick some supplies up."

The man stared for a moment, and then his thick lips parted in a gap-toothed grin. "Well, follow me then, sirs!" he chuckled—a queer, gulping sound. "I'm Captain Obed. Welcome to Innsmouth!"

* * *

_Note: As you all have probably guessed, Innsmouth is the sole property and creation of the great New England author H.P. Lovecraft. His story "The Shadow Over Innsmouth", which you can find off the Internet on any search engine, is quite a tale and you might want to check it out. It will not give away anything about this story, but it will lend some clues to certain elements of it. As always, I hope you all enjoyed this rather short episode, and I will try to update as soon as possible._


	18. The Fall of Night

Episode Eighteen: The Fall of Night

Elizabeth stood with the rest of the crowd gathered outside the church. The grey clouds that hung overhead darkened the whole land, and the wind from the sea whipped violently past. On the horizon, she could see a storm gathering; a wreath of black clouds seemed to hang over the town, causing a preternatural dusk to descend.

Governor Hutchins stood on the church porch, scanning the crowd anxiously. "I think we're all here," he finally said. "Let's go inside now," he added, raising his voice over the uneasy murmurs of the crowd.

Reverend John Cotton pushed the oaken church doors open and the crowd moved inside the church, Elizabeth in the midst of them, following. She saw no sign of Wither Skelton yet, but she knew he was somewhere inside with the rest of the elders of Massachusetts Bay Colony.

The inside of the church had two rows of benches, one on her right and one on her left—the men sat on one side and the women sat on the other. As she chose a place with the rest of the townswomen, Elizabeth felt the small church shaking slightly as a low rumble of thunder sounded faraway. The trees outside the dusty windows of the church seemed to sway and shake violently in the rising wind. The whole room was filled with an uneasy murmuring; Elizabeth noticed one middle-aged woman dressed in mourning, and another woman of about Elizabeth's own age, likewise dressed somberly. The middle-aged woman stood up and said, "When will we have an end to these deaths once and for all?" her voice shook but her eyes blazed.

"Yes, we will, Goodwife Phipps," Governor Hutchins said wearily. "Your son will get the justice he deserves. Now who do we have here?" he glanced at the seats at the front of the church reserved for the elders. "Rev. Increase Mather, his son Cotton Mather…Rev. Francis Wigglesworth and Rev. Nathaniel Ward." He nodded. "I think we're ready."

"So what is the nature of this witchcraft?" one of the elders, a thin scarecrow of a man with gaunt, bony features, an aquiline nose, and sharp, shrewd eyes, inquired.

"Ah, yes, Nathaniel Ward, I forgot that you've been in England these last few months," Governor Hutchins nodded and then paused, glancing at Reverend Cotton. "It began with a few cattle dying. At first we prepared to dismiss their unusual deaths as due to the ravages of some wild animal—"

"How did they die?" a soft voice spoke up, and Elizabeth could see that Wither Skelton was with the rest of the elders. He looked much younger than the rest, of course, but she remembered how John Cotton had insisted that he participate in the town meeting.

"We found two bloody marks on their throats," Reverend Cotton replied. "A wolf, of course, would have ripped the throat open, but it looked as if the blood had been completely suckled from each of the dead animals."

"But you can't immediately suspect that it is witchcraft," Increase Mather, a stout old man with a long, white beard, said dubiously. "After all, there is still a lot about the New World that we do not yet know."

"So I thought as well, sir," John Cotton agreed. "And for a time, we did nothing, assuming that it was some beast that had slaughtered the cattle in such a vicious fashion. However, then members of our colony too began dying mysteriously, in the same way."

Goodwife Phipps, the same woman who had stood before, rose once more, speaking in a voice that shook. "My son—was killed by this thing. We found him dead with the same horrible marks on his throat—" Her voice broke and her daughter gently pulled her back down. "You must do something, sir!" she pleaded.

"That's what we intend to do," Nathaniel Ward put in, his voice thin and cold as a needle of ice. But Elizabeth imagined that she saw a faint glimmer of compassion in the man's hard eyes.

Governor Hutchins was a little warmer. "Dear woman, we are doing our best to discover who is behind your son's death, as well as the deaths of the four other townsmen." He nodded to the rest of the elders. "Yes, that is what has happened in our colony. Four townsmen have died—all with these strange marks on their throats." He paused. "Now what do you all make of this?"

"Father—may I speak?" a boy of about fourteen who sat next to Increase Mather, was squirming excitedly on his stool.

"Yes, Cotton, if you make it brief," Increase Mather replied grimly.

"Perhaps what we're after is a sort of vampire!" Cotton Mather suggested excitedly.

"Hmm, that might be an idea, son," Increase Mather agreed. "Whatever it is, I shall certainly have to find room for it in my book entitled Remarkable Providences."

"Let us return to the point, shall we?" Nathaniel Ward interrupted tersely. "The first question in order is clearly this: are these deviltries being committed by an outsider, or by a member of this colony?"

There was an uneasy silence. "How could anyone in this colony be doing—such a thing?" Governor Hutchins protested.

"Quite easily," Nathaniel Ward replied. "There have been cases of witchcraft in our New England colonies before. I would not immediately assume that this witchcraft is being performed by some unknown person."

"Ahem, ahem!" a short, plump little man named Francis Wigglesworth who happened to be sitting next to Nathaniel Ward cleared his throat and adjusted his spectacles, blinking benignly at the rest of the elders. "Ahem!" he repeated with emphasis, seeing that he had caught everyone's attention. "Might I point out that this fair colony of Massachusetts Bay happens to be only several miles from a place called Innsmouth which has something of an ill repute, if you take my meaning."

"What is your point, Master Wigglesworth?" Increase Mather demanded.

Francis Wigglesworth blinked. "My point is that Innsmouth may be the source of our troubles."

There was a silence in the town hall. It was Wither Skelton who broke the stillness. "I think you may be right," he said with characteristic softness. "Miss Swann and I were taken captive by a sorceress named Countess Zaleska, who intended to bring us to Innsmouth, for some gruesome rites."

"This Countess was a sorceress?" Nathaniel Ward inquired, leaning forward.

"Yes, but she couldn't have been the one who cast these spells over your colony," Elizabeth spoke up for the first time. "She was all the way in Port Royal while these murders were taking place!"

"God works in mysterious ways, but so does evil, my dear," Nathaniel Ward replied. "She could have worked her spells from the Caribbean, for all we know. Not being a sorcerer myself, it's hard to say, however." He glanced at the rest of the elders. "We will adjourn our meeting for tonight. I want to speak with you, Governor Hutchins, in private sometime this evening, if you don't mind."

"Very well," the Governor agreed. "Rest assured, my dear people, that we will clear this evil out of our land very quickly."

As the rest of the townspeople milled out of the church, Elizabeth saw Wither Skelton wandering through the crowd towards the door. She noticed the strange way that he seemed almost apart from the rest of the people—or from the rest of all humanity that she had ever met. Perhaps it was his eerie combination of tender gentleness and a kind of calculating, impersonal coldness. She felt that he loved her, but there was still a part of him that seemed distant and alien. As he looked searchingly for her through the crowd, she felt a strange chill creep over her. But at the same time, she could not shake off the love that she had for this man—a desperate kind of love that Elizabeth had never felt before.

She caught his hand as he passed, and he turned in surprise. "Elizabeth," he said. "Could I speak to you for a moment?"

"Of course," she said as he led her out of the church into the grey twilight. The rest of the villagers departed to their various homes, but Wither led her towards the dark forest that bordered the edge of the settlement.

As they passed under the dark, decaying branches of the trees, Elizabeth sensed a strange stillness descend over the entire land. Her companion was also silent as he continued deeper into the forest. She could feel the sea wind move and stir past her and beneath the trees, she saw granite gravestones, with a white, hovering fog hanging over them.

Wither paused in this lonely place.

"We have known each other for a short time," he finally said, in a voice as quiet as the wind in the twisting branches. "But I have thought about you very much." He turned to her, his eyes cold and bright, and took her in his arms. "I have prayed about this and I believe now that it is the right course. But you must decide as well."

"Decide what?" Elizabeth asked.

He hesitated for a moment, and then said, "Elizabeth—will you marry me?"

Elizabeth had almost known that this would be asked of her eventually, but she felt weak anyhow and for a moment could not answer. "I have prayed about this, too," she finally said. "And I—" she took a breath and felt tears come unexpectedly to her eyes. "I will marry you." She felt that in a moment, she was going to become more emotional, but at the same time she felt that strange burning, fever come over her. She clung to him and kissed his lips and she could feel his cold, icy hands against her, holding her inexorably close. She felt herself growing faint somehow and knelt by one of the gravestones, and there amongst the graves and fog they watched the moon rise above the trees and smelt the decay of putrefaction and death.

"We must go back now," Wither finally said.

Elizabeth nodded. "You go ahead…I'll stay here for a moment longer," she said.

"Very well," he said softly, and went through the trees in the direction of the settlement.

Elizabeth, still kneeling on the leafy floor, gazed into the blackness of the forest. She thought she heard a leaf crackle behind her and she turned to see the tall, gaunt figure of Nathaniel Ward behind her.

"I take it that you and Reverend Skelton intend to marry?" he inquired.

Elizabeth stood up quickly. "How long have you been eavesdropping?" she demanded.

"Long enough," Nathaniel Ward allowed himself the ghost of a smile. "Personally, I think that it is well that you both marry. You seem a decent girl with brains as well as a heart," he added, glancing at her with a shrewd, appraising air. "That was quite an adventure that you both underwent; with that Countess, I mean. You both were lucky to escape."

"We were," Elizabeth said with a sincere heart.

"Wither Skelton seems to lead a charmed life," Nathaniel Ward remarked. "This hasn't been the first time he has magically escaped from some danger. Only several years ago, he nearly drowned in the sea after rescuing some child that had fallen in. The tide swept him back before he could reach the shore as well. We all assumed that he was dead, but several hours later we found him on the shore. It was a miracle, undoubtedly."

"I am glad he escaped—both then and now," Elizabeth said as she followed Ward out of the forest towards the settlement.

"And I am glad, my dear, that you have chosen to join our colony," Nathaniel Ward replied. "I hope that we shall become more aquainted. Perhaps you can help us rid this land of the shadow that seems to have descended so lately over our colony."


	19. The Diary of Abigail Obed

Episode Nineteen: The Diary of Abigail Obed

"Not many folks ha' come around Innsmouth these last few years," Captain Obed said as he dumped soup into bowls in front of his guests. Will stirred the watery, murky mixture of soup in front of him and said:

"What sort of town is Innsmouth?"

"A fishin' town, mostly, young sir," Captain Obed replied. "And a tradin' town, as well. We've been doin' a lot of tradin' with the natives, these last few years." He sipped some of his soup meditatively. "Aye, it's been a while since we've come across any o' you Royal Navy types in a while."

"I didn't notice many people in Innsmouth," Commodore Norrington remarked.

"Hmm," Captain Obed made a noncommittal grunt.

"Or any churches, for that matter," Mr. Gibbs muttered.

"Aye, we've got a church down here," Captain Obed chuckled. "What do you take us for—heathens?"

"Well, then why do you have those strange head masks hanging on your wall?" Will pointed to the queer masks that hung on the wall of Captain Obed's dining room. He had been studying them and had been unable to correlate them with any native tribe he had ever heard of. They looked semi-Polynesian, or perhaps African, but there was strange writing on the sides of the masks that looked like nothing he had ever seen before.

"Oh, we sailors always have a few odds and ends that we pick up from the natives around these parts," Captain Obed chuckled again. "Nothin' to worry about it, anyhow. I'm sure your friend Mr. Sparrow—"

"_Captain _Sparrow," Jack Sparrow corrected.

"I mean, Captain Sparrow," Captain Obed smiled weirdly. "I'm sure you have had dealings with natives yerself, eh?"

Jack Sparrow shook his head slowly. "No, not that I can think of," he muttered.

"Well, that's a shame," Captain Obed said. "It's interestin' the sort of trinkets they'll give ye, for the queerest things. But I don't want to keep you all up too long. You probably want to get to bed now, eh?"

"We have had a pretty long day," Governor Swann agreed. "However, we don't want to impose on you. If there's some inn in this town..."

"Not an inn worthy of Royal Navy blokes, I assure you," Captain Obed said gallantly. "And I'd be right pleased if you men would stay the night—gets kind of lonely around here sometimes...after my wife left, and all."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Will said.

"Yes, she was taken awful sudden, too," Captain Obed said reflectively. "And the worst part was the change in her...she was real pretty, my wife was, but towards the end, I couldn't even recognize her anymore. She seemed less human, if you take my meaning."

Will couldn't understand what the captain meant, but he felt a chill creep over him, nonetheless.

"Well, I'll show you all you to yer rooms, now," Captain Obed said, leading the way out of the dining room, down the makeshift hallway. "Your room is down here," he pointed out a room to Will. "And the other rooms are further down the hallway. You can make yerselves at home, and if any of you need anything, then just let me know."

Governor Swann, Captain Sparrow, Norrington, and Mr. Gibbs both went their separate ways into the designated rooms, but Will paused.

"Captain Obed, may I ask you something?" he said.

"Ask away," Obed replied.

"Have you come across a young woman or a Puritan gentleman recently in your travels?"

Obed paused for a moment in thought. "No," he finally said. "I can't say I have. Why do you ask?"

"I'm curious, that's all," Will replied. "I'm looking for a—friend of mine who was captured with a Puritan fellow by some woman. A Countess, I believe."

"Ah, a Countess," a light of recognition came into Captain Obed's watery eyes. "Now, I _do _think I've come across a Countess in my travels. Quite a lady, I might add. Hmm, now where was that?" He thought for a moment. "It was a while back. Oh, well, if I remember, I'll be sure to tell ye."

"Thank you," Will said, heading to his room.

It was a small, but cozy little chamber, with a window looking out towards the harbour and the sea. In a corner of the room, as well, was a chest which looked like it had once been padlocked, but the rusty lock had decayed over time and fallen off.

Out of curiosity, Will lifted the wooden chest and peered inside. He saw a spyglass, a crumbling map, and a leather notebook. He picked the notebook up and opened it. The first page said: _The Diary of Abigail Obed_.

Will froze. Abigail Obed...was this the diary of Captain Obed's wife? For a moment, he felt guilt at looking through something so private, but the words that continued further on down the page arrested his attention. They were these:

"_I wish my husband had never convinced me to come with him to Devil's Reef. We were so happy here in Innsmouth—he with his trading business, and I with my few friends among the Marsh family to keep my busy. We weren't rich, but that didn't trouble me. It seemed to trouble my husband, however, who insisted that there was greater gold to be found near Devil's Reef than near the other islands off the coast of Innsmouth._

_Devil's Reef is a strange place that my husband found—it is not far from Innsmouth at all. One can see it from the harbour. It is a small piece of land that is often submerged during storms and violent currents, but is sometimes (during calmer weather) dry and visible, like a tiny island out at sea. My husband visited that place very often—even marked it down on his sea map. He said that there was treasure there._

_I don't know why, but for some reason I felt an instant hatred for the place. Perhaps it's because of the name. Devil's Reef doesn't exactly evoke pleasing visions. But also, the old legends kept me away from the place for a time. I had heard of strange things from the sea that were said to gambol around that place of evil. _

_At first, the rest of the town of Innsmouth felt the way that I did. But soon, I sensed a change in the townfolk's attitude. They seemed to feel that they would get more profits from the sea and more bountiful catches of fish if they went with my husband to Devil's Reef. I had no idea how he convinced them of this, but he said that the natives had told him what to do once he reached there, and he need only have the whole town on his side, and the townsfolk of Innsmouth would be set for life._

_None of this I understood—or wanted to understand. I have been and always will be a good Christian woman, and what my husband seemed to be proposing sounded like some sort of deal with the devil. He told me that I was foolish, but I couldn't keep my fears from being voiced from him. Finally, he said that he would show me Devil's Reef himself and prove that everything I had imagined was wrong._

_Yesterday, I went to Devil's Reef with him. What I saw there, I will not bother writing here. I do not want to lead another innocent mortal astray. Already, I feel a change coming over me. My hands are growing thicker, my writing clumsier. My eyes distended and grown larger in proportion to my face—and I feel a great longing for the sea. Perhaps my husband was right—perhaps these things aren't ph'fhattagn R'lyeh—_

The diary ended in a scrawl. Will closed the notebook, his hands shaking in spite of himself. What did this woman's mad words mean? Were these just the ravings of a diseased mind or was there something more to them?

Shoving the notebook back into the chest, Will hastened towards the window with the spyglass and strained his eyes out across the harbour towards the sea. In the distance, in the midst of the black, frothing waves, he saw a tiny spit of land which he knew must be Devil's Reef.


	20. Devil's Reef

**Episode Twenty: Devil's Reef**

Upon reading this profoundly disturbing diary entry, young William Turner made his mind up with admirable swiftness as to what to do next. He tiptoed out of his room as quietly as he was able and entered Jack Sparrow's room, taking care to make sure that the door did not squeak.

"Jack!" he whispered. Sparrow started and grabbed his musket, but upon seeing Will, he lowered it a half an inch.

"What is it?" Sparrow rasped.

"I think you need to read a diary I found in my room," Will replied. "It's Obed's late wife's diary."

"It sounds like it could be interesting, but sadly I can't read," Jack Sparrow said. "Can't you just tell me what it says?"

Will took a deep breath. "It looks like we're up to our necks in black magic – and I'm not just talking about Elizabeth's kidnappers and their disappearing ship anymore. This whole town of Innsmouth is tainted with something. That something tainted Obed's wife, for instance."

"You'd better wake the Commodore up for this," Jack drawled. "It sounds like the sort of thing he'd be interested in hearing."

"Good idea," Will said and after he'd managed to rouse Norrington, Gibbs, and Governor Swann, he told them all of what he had read in that pitiful diary.

"My theory is that somehow your fiancé the Countess is tied up in all of this," Will told the Commodore. "She disappeared at the same time as the Puritan and Elizabeth. You admit that you hardly know anything about her. Add to that the fact that the _Pearl _disappeared before our eyes and I think we have a strong case of sorcery at work here."

"But what _kind _of sorcery is this?" the Governor demanded, bewildered. "The sort that turns people into – into monsters?"

Will nodded slowly. "It looks as though _something _was behind this poor woman's transformation."

"But then what does the strange language that she uses at the end of her entry mean?" the Commodore demanded.

At that moment, the Governor uttered a strangled gasp and pointed towards the window. "Look out there!" he whispered. "The ship!"

Sure enough, moored near that dark spit of land known as Devil's Reef, a boat stood anchored upon the tossing surf. And every man there knew in his heart that that boat was the _Pearl. _

"We must go there," Will said. "We have to go to Devil's Reef tonight."

* * *

The night was filled with screams – the screams of things that flopped, things with fins and fish-eyes and dreadfully human smiles. Elizabeth awoke with a start but the screaming continued; except this time, they were the screams of women, women in the village…

She climbed out of bed, pulling a coat around her, and hurried outside to see what the trouble was. Wither Skelton was already on the porch step and a shawled woman sobbed as she said, "They took my little boy! They've taken him away to Devil's Reef, I know it!"

Wither glanced at Elizabeth, his dark eyes full of grave sorrow. "We are no longer dealing with the slyness of sorcery but the openness of a raid," he said grimly. Mounting a black steed that stood nearby, he said, "I'll follow them with the rest of the townsmen and see if I can save the children that have been taken. Stay here and, God willing, I shall not return empty-handed." And with that, he rode away into the nighted forest outside the colony.

"If he think I'm staying behind, he's dead wrong," Elizabeth said, gritting her teeth and climbing onto another horse to ride after him.

"Excuse me, miss, but that's actually _my _horse," Increase Mather began, but it was too late.


End file.
